


Shaken

by GeekChick1013



Category: Alles was zählt
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-10
Updated: 2012-01-09
Packaged: 2017-11-19 20:25:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/577301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GeekChick1013/pseuds/GeekChick1013
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Can you "forget" your sexuality?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. part 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written during the time Roman was working in Plauen. That's the time period when it takes place.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A freak earthquake rocks Essen.

Deniz Öztürk opened his eyes and stared.

What he saw was trophies. Half a dozen or so. And they were moving. Dancing. As he watched, one of them skittered off the table and crashed to the floor.

Deniz sat up, eyes widening, realizing that he could hear thunder. Except it sounded like the thunder was _inside_ the flat. He swung his feet onto the floor, and could feel a deep rumbling vibration radiating up from the boards, into his calves, all the way up his body. He brain, always a bit slow on waking, had finally registered the fact that _everything was shaking._

He lurched to his feet and moved towards the living room, one word floating through the haze of confusion: _Roman._ He had only made it a few steps before he heard a cracking-ripping sound over his head, louder even than the thunder roaring through the world. Before he could look up, he heard a tremendous _crunch_ and felt a shocking weight on his neck and shoulders. The world began to go dark. He stumbled to his knees.

***

Roman Wild glanced at the clock: only eleven more minutes of babysitting. He breathed a sigh of relief, masked by the giggles, squeals, and screams echoing off the walls of the old rink. Roman glanced at the clock again: ten minutes. _Please let me get through the day without anyone getting a bloody nose. Just this once._

"Hey! Roman!"

Roman turned towards the voice and saw Lucas hurrying towards him. Lucas had spent most of Roman's time in Plauen looking at Roman as though he were lunch. A year ago Roman would have had Lucas in every direction imaginable for looking at him like that. Nowadays, such thoughts were only fleeting, quickly replaced by brown eyes and soft lips curled into a grin.

"Hey," Lucas huffed, stopping in front of him. "You live in Essen on the weekends, right?"

The excitement on Lucas' face confused Roman. This was Essen they were talking about, after all. "Yeah. Why?"

"The news. They're saying it's a freak earthquake. Damage everywhere."

Roman's face melted into amused disbelief. "Yeah, right. An earthquake in Essen. Surely you could come up with a better-"

"I'm serious, Roman," Lucas interrupted, and Roman finally noticed how tense his face was; not excitement - agitation. Roman's smile slipped a little, but he couldn't believe it. An earthquake? _In Essen?_ It was crazy. Lucas pointed back towards the manager's office. "Go, watch the news report. I'll look after the kids."

The last of Roman's bemused grin faded. Lucas hated the kids. He ran to the office, pulling his cell phone out of his pocket.

***

Marian Öztürk snapped his cell phone shut, cursing in Turkish. Celine looked up from the pile of glass she'd already swept together; Marian smiled apologetically, though he knew she hadn't understood how indecent the words had actually been. "Deniz isn't answering his phone."

"I'm sure everyone's trying to call. The network is probably flooded," Celine reassured him.

Marian shook his head. "The call is getting through. He’s just not answering." He looked around the bar, which was in reasonably good shape; a lot of broken glasses and some shaken customers seemed to be the extent of the damage. "Can you handle this on your own for a few minutes? I want to check Deniz’s flat."

Celine nodded. Marian wasted no time leaving.

It was a quick walk to the apartment Deniz shared with Roman. One of his son's neighbors was sitting on the front stoop, holding a towel to his bleeding head. Marian approached him. "Is everyone ok?"

"I don't know. There was a lot of noise." The man looked dazed. Marian grabbed a passer-by and asked if he had a cell phone. "Call an ambulance."

Trusting that the neighbor would be taken care of, Marian hurried up the stairs to Deniz and Roman's flat. He knocked on the door, but there was no answer. He dug in his pocket and pulled out a Swiss army knife, silently cursing Deniz for not thinking to give him a key, and himself for not thinking to ask.

After a moment of fiddling, the door popped open. He pushed his way in and immediately began to cough; the apartment was thick with dust. He looked towards Deniz and Roman's bedroom and his legs went numb.

Deniz was lying face-down on the floor, much of his head obscured by the plaster lathing that had broken loose of the ceiling. A single long wood beam lay across his son's back. Deniz wasn't moving. As far as Marian could see, he wasn't even breathing.

Marian's paralysis broke. He ran to his son, falling to his knees beside him, screaming his name.

***

Roman pushed the little car up to a frightening 130kph, hitting speed dial on his mobile for what seemed like the hundredth time. When he was dumped into voicemail yet again, he cursed and threw the phone onto the seat.

When it rang a minute later, Roman nearly drove off the road. He snatched the phone up, fumbling with the steering wheel. He flipped the phone open and blurted, "Deniz!"

"No, Roman, it's Marian."

Roman's stomach plummeted. His foot came off the gas pedal and the car began to drift towards the shoulder as it slowed. His blood felt like ice water in his veins. His _voice..._

"Roman? Are you there?"

The car had come to a stop on the shoulder. Roman tried to speak, and couldn't. Finally he managed a whisper. "Marian... the earthquake..."

"Deniz is in intensive care. Oliver says he has a hairline fracture in his skull. He's still unconscious." Marian's voice was hoarse.

Roman's face crumpled. There was a touch of relief there; the worst was not true. "I'm on my way back. I can be there in a few hours."

"Good," Marian said. "If…" he cleared his throat, " _when_ Deniz wakes up, I'll tell him that."

 _If..._ Roman nodded without realizing that Marian couldn't see him. "Tell him I love him. Tell him as soon as you see him, even if he's not awake. Ok?"

It was a moment before Marian’s hoarse voice came through the phone. "I will. I'll see you soon."

Roman hung up the phone and allowed himself to panic for a moment. When he could breathe again, he put the car in drive and signaled to return to the road.

***

Marian looked at his son. Deniz’s head was wrapped in gleaming white bandages, the only hint of his dark hair the sideburns touching his pale cheeks. His face was serene. Marian was trying not to wonder what he would do if Deniz's face stayed like that forever... never melted into his impish smile, or twisted into disgusted anger, or drooped in a pout.

Oliver entered the room quietly. Marian blinked back tears, turning to his roommate. “Well?”

“He's stable,” Oliver said. “But we won't know the extent of the damage to his brain until he regains consciousness.”

Marian just nodded.

“The good news,” Oliver continued, “is that he's breathing on his own. There's still every chance that he'll regain consciousness.”

Marian nodded again, finding it hard to feel hopeful. He glanced at the clock. He guessed it would be another couple of hours before Roman got there. He uttered a watery sigh and sank into the chair next to his son's bed. He took Deniz's hand. “I love you,” he whispered.

Deniz's fingers flexed, squeezing Marian's.

Marian stood up quickly, leaning over his son. Oliver, seeing Marian move, hurried to the other side of the bed. Deniz's eyes were blinking slowly open, blank at first, freezing Marian's heart. Then they began to regain some life, moving from object to object. They settled on Marian's face, looking alarmed now. “What's happening?”

Marian smiled, unable to help himself. “You're in the hospital. You were hurt.”

Deniz's alarm did not abate. He glanced uneasily down at the hand that Marian was holding, then back into Marian's face. “Who are you?”

Marian frowned and glanced across the bed at Oliver. He looked back at his son, hoping desperately that it was just another Deniz Öztürk joke, and that he would see that impish gleam appear in his son's eyes. Instead he saw only confusion and fear. “Deniz-” he began.

Deniz frowned. “Who's Deniz?” He glanced at Oliver, then back to Marian, questioning, panicking. “Why can't I remember my name?”

***

Deniz was sitting up in bed, looking at his hands. He glanced furtively at Marian. Both of them were trying to ignore the muttered conversation going on between Oliver and the neurologist in the corner of the room. They both tried to pretend they hadn't heard the word _amnesia_ more than once. The exam had taken hours.

“How old am I?” Deniz asked abruptly, surprising Marian. The muttered conversation paused as the two doctors glanced over, then resumed.

“Um.” Marian sat up in his chair. “You're twenty-one.”

Deniz nodded, avoiding Marian's eyes. “Too young to be married, I guess,” he said, continuing to fiddle with his fingers.

A warning bell went off in Marian's head. He glanced at the clock and his stomach turned.

“Do I have a girlfriend?” Deniz asked innocently.

“Um,” Marian said again. The hospital-room door opened.

“Deniz!” Roman was in the room and at Deniz's side before Marian could even get up. He took Deniz's hand, hovered a hand briefly over the bandage, touched his face. He didn't seem to notice when his boyfriend flinched away, forehead creasing into a frown. Roman glanced back at Marian, talking a mile a minute. “Why didn't you call me when he woke up? I've been going crazy.”

Deniz glanced at Marian, his eyes wide and apologetic. “Brother?” he guessed.

Roman frowned briefly, looking between Deniz and Marian. The elder Öztürk shook his head and stepped up to Roman's side, put a hand on his shoulder. Roman's smile faded completely, looking into his boyfriend's blank eyes, both hands curled around Deniz's one. _Why isn't he squeezing back?_

Marian spoke gently. “This is Roman.”

Deniz's eyes moved back to Roman's face. “Hi,” he said softly, with just a touch of his crooked smile. Roman, relief fading quickly, looked at Marian again.

“He doesn't remember,” Marian whispered.

“Doesn't remember... the accident?”

Marian shook his head. “Anything.”

Roman looked in his partner's eyes. Then down at his hand, which still wasn't squeezing his own... and suddenly he realized what was missing. The physical familiarity, something they'd had since they became a couple for the first time so long ago; it had endured even when they hadn't spoken for nearly six months, had drawn them back together again and again. Now it was gone.

“Are we... friends?” Deniz asked hesitantly. His eyes darted between Roman and Marian.

Marian looked at the man beside him, the man he'd called his future son-in-law. He saw the realization dawning on Roman's face and his heart broke a little. He looked back at Deniz. “Roman is your _boy_ friend.”

Deniz glanced between them, then scoffed. “Yeah, right.” Roman couldn't look at him. His eyes were unfocused, staring at nothing. Marian was watching his son, silently willing him not to do what he was about to do. But Deniz scoffed again, more vehemently. “I'm not gay,” he said. His bemused expression twisted suddenly into disgust as he wrenched his hand violently out of Roman's grasp. “Get off me!” he growled.

Roman flinched from the sudden movement, his face an open wound. Deniz was sneering incredulously into the corner. Then he turned his eyes to his father, and they burned. “Get him out of here. I'm not some fag.” He did not look at Roman as his voice rose. “Get him out of here. Now!”

The two doctors were approaching the bed even as Roman backed quickly away, hands up, face raw. Marian watched him stumble out the door, was torn between following Roman and staying with his son. He saw Deniz wiping his hand on the bed sheet with exaggerated care, the same hand Roman had been holding, his face still twisted in disgust. Marian looked at Oliver. “I'll be back in a minute.”

He found Roman in the hall, leaning against the wall, face stunned. He touched Roman's shoulder, angled his face into Roman's eye line, trying to connect. Roman's gaze drifted off, and he spoke numbly. “I guess you finally got your wish,” he said. “You have a straight son.”

Marian took Roman's other shoulder and forced Roman to look him in the eyes. “No,” he said firmly.

This broke through Roman's haze; his shoulders slumped and he looked at Marian apologetically. Then he stood up straight, trying to get control back. “Do they know how long-” he stopped. Roman couldn't finish the sentence.

Marian shrugged, his hands dropping from Roman's shoulders. “He could get his memory back tomorrow.” His own shoulders sagged. “Or he could be like this the rest of his life.”

Roman nodded mechanically. His face began to crumple, the tears welling up. He tried to keep it together, but those words echoed in his head. _He could be like this the rest of his life._


	2. part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deniz has amnesia.

Marian followed Roman up the stairs to the flat he and Deniz shared. Oliver had sent them both away, claiming Deniz needed the rest.

Roman pulled out his keys to open the apartment door, but lowered his hand when he saw that the door was still open a few inches. He pushed it open further but didn’t enter; he simply looked around at what had been his life.

Marian stood beside Roman and took it in as well. He glanced at Roman. “Do you want me to go in for you?”

Roman jumped a little, as though he’d forgotten Marian was there. “No,” he said. “I’ll do it.” He stepped through the door, into the kitchen.

Marian followed. They passed through the kitchen, Roman running a hand over the stovetop. It was dusty, but otherwise undamaged. The kitchen table had skittered away from its usual spot, but was otherwise unharmed. Pictures were askew, or had fallen from their nails; decorative knickknacks tipped over or sometimes shattered on the floor; the TV had moved forward several inches on its stand, but had stopped short of overbalancing. The whole place looked a mess, but no worse than after a too-raucous party.

Until the bedroom.

Most of the ceiling was on the floor. There were scuff marks, signs of the rescue workers who had come in and taken Deniz to the ambulance. There was some dried blood, but not enough to account for the nausea sinking into Roman’s belly.

Marian watched as Roman paused in the door, seemingly unable to enter. He thought about offering again to go for him, but waited. After a moment staring at the place on the ground where Deniz had been, he moved through the doorway and into the bedroom towards the closet. He gathered a few things, then looked up to the top shelf. Gingerly, almost nervously, he took down the scrapbook that was there and tucked it under his arm.

“Axel- um, Dr. Schwartz, said he would have building inspectors in here as soon as he could to make sure it’s safe," Marian said, as Roman stuffed the clothes and scrapbook into a duffel bag. "Then he’ll have some contractors come in and fix the ceiling. Until then you can stay with me.”

Roman nodded. He slung the bag over his shoulder and turned to Marian, ready to follow him out.

“It’ll be ok,” Marian said softly.

Roman looked at him and said nothing.

***

Marian looked up as Oliver entered the flat looking exhausted. He didn’t want to make Oliver’s weariness worse, but-

“Deniz is still sleeping,” Oliver said, before Marian could even open his mouth. “You can visit him in the morning.”

“What about me?” Roman said from the couch, where he’d been sitting in silence since he and Marian had returned.

Oliver paused, then sat next to Roman on the couch. “It’s best if he’s reintroduced to his life slowly. Even ignoring the emotional trauma of amnesia, he has physical healing to worry about. Additional stress will only make his recovery slower.”

Roman nodded, still giving the thousand-yard stare. Oliver glanced at Marian, who walked over and sat on Roman’s other side. “Listen, I’ll talk to him, ok?” When Roman didn’t react, Marian sighed. “Those things he said, I’m sure it was just shock. He didn’t mean it.”

Roman gave Marian the side-eye. “It’s not the first time I’ve heard Deniz say those things.”

Marian nodded. “And last time he was saying them because he was afraid. Just like now. He doesn’t know who he is or what he is.”

Oliver jumped in. “He may simply not realize that he’s gay. It’s incredibly unlikely that the injury rewrote his sexuality.”

Roman shook his head. “I can’t go through that again. I can’t, I… I just can’t.”

***  
Deniz grimaced his way through another bite of gelatin, then dropped his spoon onto the tray. “I’d heard hospital food was bad, but this is beyond.”

Marian smiled, then looked at Deniz. “Where did you hear that?”

Deniz thought for a moment, then shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Marian tried not to look disappointed as he settled back in the chair. “They’re letting you out tomorrow. Oliver said it’s a good thing you’ve got such a thick skull.”

Deniz smiled, then looked towards the window. “Where do I live?”

Marian looked at him cautiously. “You have a flat... with Roman.” Marian saw the muscles in Deniz’s jaw tighten. “It was damaged in the earthquake, but the landlord said that he’ll have it fixed up in a week or so. Until then you can stay with me.”

Deniz looked at him suddenly. “Can’t I just live with you?”

Marian raised his eyebrows. “Sure. But maybe you should talk about that with Roman.”

Deniz sighed. “I… I can’t talk to him. I don’t know him.”

“He loves you, Deniz,” Marian said softly. “And I know it’s hard for you to believe, but you loved him too.” He kept talking over Deniz’s continued sniffing and eye rolling. “He’s scared and he’s hurt and you need to talk to him because even before you were together, you were friends.”

Deniz looked at Marian, then nodded. “Ok.”

“And no more of this ‘fag’ nonsense. It took me a long time to realize that there’s nothing wrong with having a gay son, and I’m not going to tolerate you using that word. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Papa,” Deniz said, properly abashed.

Marian looked at him sharply again. “Why did you call me that?”

Deniz shrugged, still looking put-out. “I don’t know. You were yelling at me, I just felt like using it.”

Marian sighed again. “Just… don’t push Roman away. You’ve been very important to each other for a very long time, and it isn’t fair-“

“Not fair?” Deniz burst out. “It’s not my fault that- that-“

“That what?” Marian asked. “That he fell in love with you? That you got knocked on the head and forgot who you are?”

“Yeah,” Deniz said petulantly, with an eye roll.

“Well, it’s not his fault either,” Marian said bracingly. “So stop treating him like he did something bad to you. Ok?”

“Ok,” Deniz said softly.

***  
Roman entered the flatshare, looking around cautiously. He frowned. The place looked no different than it had last time he’d seen it, except that the TV was gone.

“Hello?” he said into the space, hoping someone was home.

Annette popped out of the bathroom. “Roman?”

“I just wanted to check and make sure everyone survived,” Roman said mildly, walking over to the couch. “Did the earthquake skip your flat?”

Annette flopped on the couch, peeling off rubber gloves. “I’ve been cleaning for two days.”

“Oh,” Roman said, plopping down beside her. “Deniz is in the hospital.”

Annette sat bolt upright. “What? Is he ok?”

“Oliver thinks he’ll heal fine,” Roman said. “But he has amnesia. He can’t remember anything.”

This took Annette a moment to process. “Anything?”

Roman shook his head. “Not who we are, not his name… not that he’s gay.”

“Wow,” Annette breathed. Then she took Roman’s hand. “Are you ok?”

Tears were threatening, but Roman forced them back. “When Marian told him that I was his boyfriend, he looked like he was going to punch me. Or throw up.” He shook his head. “Talk about déjà vu.”

Annette cuddled into Roman. “Oh sweetie... I’m sorry. Is it… permanent?”

“They don’t know,” Roman said thickly. “They’re sending him home today.”

Annette looked up at him. “Why aren’t you at the hospital?”

His shook his head, resigned. “I can’t, Annette. I can’t go through it again. Especially if… I mean, he may never…”

Annette sat up next to him. “Deniz fell in love with you _-twice-_ even when he thought he was straight. There’s no reason to think he won’t fall in love with you again.”

Roman rolled his eyes. "Right. And then he’ll meet a pretty girl and fall in love with _her_ and I’ll be tossed aside for a year while he figures out what he wants. I’ll move on, and then he’ll chase after me until he wrings me out and wears me down, then something else will happen and I’ll be wrestling him out of the closet for the rest of our lives-"

“Roman!” Annette barked, cutting off his rapid speech. Roman panted, glaring at her. “Roman." She took a breath. "If you were the one lying in that hospital bed with no idea who or... or _what_ you are, would you want Deniz to give up on you? Just because you thought you were straight? Or would you want him to _fight_ for you?”

The tears were getting closer now.

“Roman, you fought so hard, _both_ of you, to be together. Are you really going to give up that easily?”

Roman looked at her, a tear slipping down his cheek, his face set and hard. “No.”

She raised an eyebrow delicately. “Then you better get to the hospital.”

He nodded, wiping the tear away, then kissed her heartily on the cheek. “Love you, Netchen.”

“Love you, Bunny.”

***

Marian held onto Deniz’s elbow as the younger man stood up. He swayed a bit and Marian looked a little alarmed.

“I haven’t been upright in two days,” Deniz explained, smiling indulgently at his father. “I’m fine.”

Marian squinted at him and nodded as Oliver rolled the wheelchair up to the bed. He patted the seat. “Just temporary. No need to call Stella for wheelie tips.”

Deniz frowned as he turned and sat in the chair. “Who’s Stella?”

Marian sighed. “I’ll tell you later.”

They turned the wheelchair around, and found the doorway blocked by a former figure skater with a small grin. “Can I push the chair? I love pushing the chair.”


	3. part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deniz tries to learn his life again.

“Shit!”

Roman was dragged up from sleep by the familiar voice. He lifted his head from the pillow he’d been squeezing and blinked over his shoulder at Deniz. Only his tall frame was visible, silhouetted against the early morning sky. The rest of the Öztürk flat was dark. Roman sat up on the couch where he’d been sleeping. “Everything ok, swee- uh, Deniz?”

An uncomfortable silence stretched out. Finally his silhouette nodded. “Yeah. Sorry I woke you. I got hungry, but I don’t know where anything is. Not even the fucking light switch.”

Roman pulled himself off the couch, walked to the kitchen, flipped on the light. “What are you hungry for?”

Apparently something in the way Roman said that, or his posture, or the look in his eyes, made Deniz even more uncomfortable. “Never mind.” He turned to go back to the bedroom.

Roman caught Deniz’s arm. He felt muscles there tense up, and pulled his hand away slowly. “I can make you something. You can’t cook to save your life. What do you want?”

Deniz thought about it. “I don’t know what I like,” he said softly.

“It’s ok,” Roman said. “I do.” He turned towards the refrigerator. “Sit down.” There was the sound of chair legs scraping across tile. “I was thinking we could go down to the Centre tomorrow,” Roman said as he pulled out the ingredients. “I heard the damage from the earthquake wasn’t too bad. Maybe some more familiar places will ring some bells for you.”

“Nothing’s rung any bells for me,” Deniz said sullenly. Roman turned and was confronted with a pouting face, one of the expressions that usually gave him heartburn. “I haven’t recognized anything since I woke up. No faces, no places, no sounds, nothing.”

Roman would have done almost anything to chase that hollowness out of Deniz’s voice. Instead he turned back to the stove and stirred. “You have to keep trying.” When Deniz didn’t say anything, Roman turned to the cupboards and pulled down some plates. He set them on the table and smiled gently at Deniz, who was looking at him with that same expression, one that promised a blow-up if pushed too hard. “We’ll make it a short trip. I’m sure you’re still tired.”

Deniz stared at him. Roman braced himself for an explosion. Deniz deflated, nodding vaguely. “Ok.”

Roman returned to the stove, suppressing a sigh of relief. He took the pot off and brought it to the table, ladling onto plates for each of them.

Deniz sat up, interest piqued. “This smells good.”

“It’s your favorite,” Roman said, putting the pot back on the stove and sitting down. “Marian gave me the recipe after you moved with me. Said you wouldn’t be able to live without it.” He smiled at the memory.

Deniz was looking distinctly uncomfortable again. He picked up his fork and took a bite, careful not to look at Roman. “Wow. It’s great.”

Roman nodded and picked at his own plate. They ate in silence. Finally Roman couldn’t take it. He sighed and looked at Deniz, forcing himself to be as gentle with his voice as he could. “Do you want to talk about this?”

Deniz didn’t look at Roman, just set his fork down. “Talk about what?”

Patience, Roman, Annette’s voice whispered in his ear. “About us,” he said, voice amazingly calm.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Deniz said woodenly, still looking elsewhere.

“You can’t pretend it away. It’s part of who you are.” Still calm.

“It’s not part of who I am now,” Deniz said quickly, looking at Roman.

God, the anger in those eyes. It was all-too-familiar to Roman. He fought down his inner drama queen and took another bite of the dish. “You don’t know that, yet. You don’t know who you are, or where anything is, or what foods you like.” He looked at Deniz and shrugged. “You don’t know, _yet._ ”

Deniz put his hands up, exasperated. “If I was gay, I’d have… _feelings_ for you, or something. I don’t feel anything!”

Roman frowned mildly at him. “Why would you have feelings for me just because you’re gay? You don’t know me. Do you have any feelings about your father?”

“No.”

Roman raised his eyebrows at Deniz. “See? You need to stop worrying so much about who you _were._ Just be who you _are,_ no matter who that is.”

“What if who I am now is straight?” Deniz asked, eyes defiant. “What are _you_ going to do?”

Roman lifted his chin. “That’s my problem, not yours.”

Deniz simply looked at him for a moment, then picked up his fork and began eating again. Roman did the same, and noticed that the silence wasn’t as uncomfortable as it had been before.

***

“Thanks, Constanze.”

Roman disconnected his cell phone as Deniz emerged from the bedroom. He was dressed in the typical jeans and t-shirt combo that he favored, and was just then pulling a light stocking cap carefully over his head. Roman grinned a little. Deniz wasn’t much for hats, especially if they covered his gelled-up pride and joy. Deniz noticed Roman’s look and shrugged.

“I can’t wait to get these stitches out. I don’t even remember what it’s like to have clean hair.”

Roman nodded, trying (quite unsuccessfully) to keep a straight face. Deniz either didn’t notice or pretended not to as he finished arranging the hat. Roman held out Deniz’s coat. “Ready to face the world?”

Deniz took the coat and slid it on reluctantly. “How many times do we have to tell the amnesia story?”

Roman flipped Deniz’s scarf over his head and began to tie it, pointedly ignoring the discomfort on his face. “I just got off the phone with Constanze. It should take about two minutes to walk over, and she’ll have spread it around the Centre by then.” He tugged on the scarf as he turned towards the door. “Let’s go.” Deniz frowned, but followed.

They emerged into the cold morning air, breath puffing from their mouths. Roman very nearly snuggled into Deniz’s arm before remembering that it would be best to keep a little distance. Instead he walked at Deniz’s side, hands in his pockets.

Roman pointed. “That’s the fry stand,” he said, aware of Deniz’s attention focusing towards it. “And that’s Annette.” As if on cue, Annette spotted them and gave a little wave. Roman waved back, and was amused to see Deniz do the same. “She’s my best friend,” Roman explained.

Deniz sniffed the air as they passed. “I think I like fries,” he said.

Roman laughed. “Yes, you definitely do.”

“Can we get some on the way back?” He was craning backwards to keep staring at the fry stand, looking for all the world like an awkward puppy.

“Yeah, sure,” Roman said, grabbing Deniz’s arm gently to steer him away from a garbage can he was about to crash into. “My treat.”

Deniz returned his attention forward and didn’t seem to notice Roman’s continued contact. He was squinting at the Centre now. “Steinkamp Sport and Wellness. What’s Steinkamp?”

“It’s a family. They own the Centre.”

“Oh,” Deniz said. “Do I work here?”

“Sort of,” Roman said, surreptitiously snaking his arm through Deniz’s.

Deniz stopped suddenly, and gently disengaged from Roman. His face was not unkind, but it was firm and clearly sent the message: _too much touching._ He continued their conversation as though nothing had happened. “What does ‘sort of’ mean?”

“You… um, you’re a model.” Roman said, trying to ignore the rejection. “The Steinkamps manage you.”

Deniz’s eyes shot up to his hairline. “I’m a _model?_ ”

Roman nodded. "For a company called Male Function." Roman hesitated, then added, "Their clothing line is geared towards gay men."

The smile that had been creeping onto Deniz’s face faded, replaced by an eye-roll. "Man, is there anything in my life that’s not gay?"

Roman gritted his teeth, struggling with his patience. "I know this is hard for you, but it might be easier if you stop putting labels on everything. You happen to model for a company targeting a gay audience. It doesn’t make you a flaming queen."

Roman waited for Deniz to scoff or rage, but again, Deniz deflated and rubbed his hands up his face. "I’m trying, ok?" He sighed. "I’m sorry for the ‘gay’ comment."

"It’s all right," Roman said with dignity. "I can’t imagine what it would be like to wake up tomorrow and have some woman telling me I was straight. I’d probably tell her to go to hell."

Deniz looked at him curiously. "When did you realize…"

Roman suppressed an eye roll and glanced towards the Centre. "We’ll have that conversation another time, ok? Right now, we should probably get this over with."

Deniz followed his gaze and saw three heads poking out of the front door of the Centre, watching them. They ducked quickly back inside when the boys looked at them. Deniz frowned. "Who was that?"

"The Witches of Eastwick," Roman muttered. At Deniz’s confused look, he shook his head. "They work the reception desk. Brigette, Petra, and Constanze; I’ll introduce you properly when we get inside."

Deniz grabbed Roman’s arm, stopping his forward progress. "I don’t know about this."

Roman fought a brief, fierce inner battle not to react to Deniz’s touch. He smiled gently and patted Deniz’s hand. "It’ll be ok. I’ll watch out for you."

***

They made their slow way through the Centre, stopping in all the places Roman thought Deniz might remember: the pool, the weight room, the dance studio, the ice rink. Deniz looked at everything with the slightly blank stare that meant he was more overwhelmed than he would admit. Roman did his best to hide how he watched Deniz, knowing the pressure he felt, but couldn’t stop himself looking. If only there was one moment, one spark, anything...

Deniz was introduced to faces that would become familiar again, with time; the reception ladies, Ingo, even Jenny Steinkamp. Not to mention half a dozen regulars whose names Roman didn’t even know. Although Deniz smiled and acted perfectly friendly, Roman could see the tension in his eyes and knew they would have to go back to the safety of the flat before long.

The last place Roman brought Deniz was the locker room. Although he knew it wasn’t any more likely to trigger Deniz’s memory than any of the other places they’d been, he couldn’t help holding onto hope. So much had happened between them in this room, so much love and hate and need and anger and fear. They’d fought here, made love here, broken each other here. Sad though it may be, there might be no one place more significant in their relationship as this damp, sometimes smelly, always dingy little room. Roman found himself overwhelmed with emotion as he opened the door and led Deniz in. He did his best to hide it and to keep his eyes off Deniz as the younger man looked around. After a moment he turned to Roman and shrugged.

“Nothing.”

Roman nodded. “Ok,” he said softly.

Deniz shifted his feet, looking away from Roman. “I’m pretty tired, can we go home?”

Roman nodded, putting on a smile. “Still want to stop for fries?”

Deniz shouldered past him and out the door. “Maybe next time.”

Roman hesitated, letting a shuddery sigh slip out before he followed Deniz out of the room. The door closed with a thump, leaving the only sound in the room the occasional drip of water.


	4. part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman makes a mistake. Deniz makes a decision.

"Yes, ok. Thank you."

Marian paused in the door to his bedroom as Roman set his cell phone aside. Roman put his head in his hands and sighed. Marian walked into the kitchen. "Bad news about the flat?"

Roman looked around quickly, surprised. "Um. Yeah. The landlord said it will be a while before the contractors will be done. There was apparently some additional structural damage." He stood and walked towards Marian. "I hate to keep imposing..."

"Not at all," Marian said, pouring some coffee. "You can stay as long as you need to." He handed the cup to Roman and poured some more for himself.

"Thanks," Roman said, and swallowed coffee around the lump in his throat.

Roman had always been an emotional person, but since the accident it had become ridiculous. He was constantly on the verge of tears, bursting into a rage, or collapsing on the couch and refusing to ever get up. It was a constant frustration; which, of course, only made it worse. He’d been relieved when Ben had approached him the previous day with a plan to convince Katja to skate, even though the task seemed daunting. He felt like the past two weeks of his life had been spent slamming his head against a brick wall in the form of a tall half-Turk. Although being away from Deniz made him nervous, he knew he had to get some time to himself or he’d break.

Speaking of half-Turks, one stumbled out of the bedroom, attracted by the smell of coffee. He poured out a cup and sat heavily in the chair across from Roman, who smiled into his coffee cup. "How’s your head?"

Deniz grunted and sipped his coffee. "Hurts. Not as bad as before." One eye cracked open and looked at Roman. "I get my stitches out today."

"Oh," Roman said mildly, as though he didn’t already know. "I'll loan you some of my super-expensive, specially blended shampoo from Old Town. To celebrate being able to wash your hair again." Deniz grunted again, oblivious to the reference. Roman finished his coffee and stood up. "I've got to go, some business at the Centre."

Deniz's other eye popped open. "You’ll be at the doctor’s though, right?"

Roman exchanged a fast glance with Marian. "Uh. Yeah, sure."

Deniz nodded and closed his eyes, looking like he would nod off at the table. Roman glanced at Marian again, whose eyebrows were raised, then turned and went to the door, grabbing his coat on the way.

***

Roman stood on the ice, feeling thoroughly disgruntled. Katja had refused to even get on the ice. Ben had chased after her to attempt some more cajoling, but Roman knew stubbornness when he saw it. She wouldn’t be getting on the ice anytime soon.

It had been a long time since _he’d_ been on the ice for anything other than training, and he realized he was having the urge to skate. He glanced furtively around the rink to make sure he was alone, then pushed off.

The air rippled his hair back from his forehead, cold and clean. He let himself glide for a moment, enjoying the ice in a way he hadn’t in a very long time; not since the practice sessions with Deniz, before the Essen Cup. When there had been no pressure on Roman to perform and he could simply enjoy the dance, the way it felt when Deniz took his hand and led him – shaky at first, then with more confidence – across the ice. Caught up in his own desperate need to be on that podium, he’d lost the thing which had brought him to the ice in the first place: the simple joy of skating.

He circled to the center of the ice, closed his eyes, and began to perform the routine he’d practiced so many times with Deniz. He was skating alone but sometimes he would close his eyes and hold his hands out as though Deniz was there, and sometimes he could feel the other man’s body next to his. He subsituted a sit-spin where they should have been spinning together, hands clasped; and replaced the throw salchow with an axel. He could hear the music in his head over the scrape and cracking of his blades, the chugging of his breath, the roaring of his heartbeat. He finished the routine, holding air in the shape of Deniz, and was shocked to hear clapping from the boards.

He spun around and saw Deniz, still applauding, his face a wide grin. Roman hesitated for a moment, then skated over to him. "Wow!" Deniz enthused. "That was awesome."

Roman shrugged, a blush rising up. "What are you doing here?"

"I got bored. I thought you didn’t skate anymore."

"I felt like blowing off some steam." He glanced up at Deniz’s face. "Fancy a spin around the rink?"

Deniz raised his eyebrows. "I don’t think Dr. Sommer would approve."

Roman grinned. "Wouldn't be the first time we’ve been on the ice when we weren’t supposed to." At Deniz’s confused frown, Roman stepped off the ice and reached for his blade guards. "You helped me on the ice once, a long time ago. I was hurt – injured - and Mike..." His voice caught. It still hurt to think about him. "Mike, my trainer, he wouldn’t let me skate. Thought I would just make the injury worse. I was… devastated." Roman, lost in memory, smiled a little. "When I told you, you made me come right back here and try."

_A touch on the cheek. "I’ll take care of you."_

"You helped me back on the ice; it was the first time I’d skated in months."

_A smile, a laugh echoing off the boards, a painful/delicious collision. "I’ve missed this so much. Can you even imagine?"_

"Even though I couldn’t stay up for long, it was the moment I knew I’d be ok. That I’d skate again. Because you picked me up and told me I would."

_A noserub. A kiss. The warm weight above him a sharp contrast to the cold ice beneath, and it wasn’t just skating he’d missed... it was touch, heat, breath._

Roman’s words had trailed off. Deniz cleared his throat, searching for some way to flounder out of this strange silence. "How did you get hurt?"

Roman blinked rapidly. "Bulle," he whispered.

"Bully?" Deniz frowned.

"Carsten Bullrich," Roman elaborated, coming back to the present. "He was a hockey player. On your team. Didn’t like gays much. Even less than you."

The frown deepened. "What do you mean? I didn’t…"

"No," Roman said sharply. " _You_ didn’t. But Carsten did, and he hurt me, the worst way you can hurt a skater." He slapped his leg, hard, startling Deniz. "Damaged a ligament in my knee. When it first happened the doctor said I would never skate again. I thought..."

Deniz was looking at him with dark eyes. "Why did he beat you up?"

Roman shook his head. "It doesn’t matter."

"Because you're gay?" Deniz said with roughness in his voice.

Roman gave him a hard look. "Yeah, because I'm gay. And because I made the mistake of falling in love with his friend. His macho asshole friend who couldn’t admit that he was gay too. Until the guilt of seeing me beat half to death finally got too much and he – _you_ \- stopped lying to yourself." Roman stopped, breathing hard, surprised at his own fury.

Deniz didn’t look at him for a long moment, jaw clenched. Finally he glanced up at Roman, surprising him with the hint of a grin. "Guess you’re still pretty pissed about that, huh?"

Roman exhaled a shaky laugh. "I guess so."

Deniz nodded, still having trouble maintaining eye contact. "I don’t blame you. It sounds like I was a real asshole."

Roman managed an indulgent grin. "You _were_ an asshole. But you were also a terrified kid. You made bad choices. It wasn’t your fault."

Deniz crossed his arms, leaning against the glass over the boards, a teasing gleam in his eye. "Still, thought you’d get me out on the ice for some payback, huh?"

"Even when we were skating together, I could still wipe the ice with you."

Deniz’s grin widened. "Oh yeah? I bet you suck at hockey."

Roman’s eyes narrowed and he stepped closer to Deniz. "I might surprise you, caveman."

Deniz chuckled, and without even thinking Roman wrapped his arms around Deniz's neck and stepped into that warm laughter. Their lips had barely brushed when hands clamped around Roman's wrists and pushed him suddenly out of the warmth. Deniz did not release him, which was a good thing since Roman would have fallen if he had. The smile had vanished from his face. "Don’t do that again."

Roman nodded. "Sorry. I just… forgot. For a minute." There was no response from Deniz, who was still gripping his wrists. "You’re hurting me," he whispered.

Deniz let go immediately, a blush running up his cheeks. "I'm sorry. Really. You just… startled me."

Roman turned away to his bag, fumbling through it for his cell phone. "It’s ok." He found his phone and checked the time. "It’s almost two, we should get to the clinic."

"Yeah," Deniz said softly, and waited as Roman changed into his trainers; he pretended not to notice the tears in Roman's eyes, or how horrible they made him feel – more horrible every time he caused them.

***

"Roman!"

Constanze's voice stopped Roman's forward progress out of the Centre. Deniz stopped too, glancing around. Roman turned and went to the front desk, wondering what bit of gossip he was about to be subjected to. "Constanze, I don't really have time right now, Deniz has an appointment at the clinic-"

"Your landlord dropped off some papers for you to sign. He said the contractors are done and you're free to move back into your flat." She glanced at Deniz as she held an envelope out to Roman.

"Thank you," he gritted, grabbing the envelope and hurrying out the door without waiting to see if Deniz was following.

Footsteps caught up to Roman "You didn’t say anything about the flat being ready."

Roman didn't stop, didn't look at Deniz. "I just found out about it this morning."

Deniz hurried after him. "So, you’ll be moving out?"

Roman stopped so suddenly that Deniz went past him a step and had to turn around. "Yeah, I guess I will."

They looked at each other for a long moment. Deniz shuffled his feet. "So, I guess I need to decide if I want to move back in with you, huh?"

Roman's anger abated, replaced by – what was that? Was that _hope_? "Do you want to?" he asked quietly.

Deniz shrugged. "I don't know. I haven't decided yet."

"Ok," Roman said, and began to walk again. "Take your time. I... I'm not in any hurry."

Deniz nodded, seemed lost in thought. "There's another bedroom, right?"

"Yeah," Roman said. He waited to be hurt by the question. He wasn't.

They continued in companionable silence until they reached the clinic, which was attached to the hospital. Deniz seemed antsy as they completed the check-in ritual. Roman asked about the restlessness.

"I hate this place," Deniz said, eyes roving the room.

"Because you woke up here?"

Deniz shrugged. "I don’t know."

"Deniz Öztürk?"

They moved their waiting into an exam room. Oliver paused for a split second as he entered the room, looking between them. "I expected Marian to be here."

"He had to work," Deniz mumbled. He glanced up at Oliver. "Is this gonna hurt?"

Roman couldn't help a tiny smile.

"Just a little," Oliver said. He began to tinker about with the medical instruments as Deniz threw a nervous glance Roman's way. Cue given, Roman stepped closer to Deniz and kept a hand available.

Oliver turned and laid a latex-gloved hand gently on Deniz's head. Deniz flinched visibly, and Roman grinned. Deniz glowered at him.

"Sorry," Roman said. "You get in fights and throw yourself around on the ice, but the minute a doctor comes at you, you start whimpering like a puppy."

Deniz narrowed his eyes in Roman's direction, not even noticing that Oliver was going to pull out the first stitch until it was done. He hissed at the pain and grabbed Roman's hand. Each stitch elicited a squeeze until Roman was pretty sure he was in more pain than Deniz. But he wouldn't pull away. Not for the world.

***

Roman sat on the couch, listening to the sound of the shower. The Öztürk apartment was deserted but for the two of them and Roman wanted nothing more than to be under the streaming water with Deniz. Most of the time this physical need, one of hands and mouths, breath and touch, wasn’t so bad. Most of the time he just wanted Deniz back. But knowing Deniz was in the shower, the steam curling around his body, the water beading on his skin-

The ache was nearly unbearable, throbbing through his mind and body. He didn’t know why it was so bad tonight; maybe it was the near-kiss, the holding of hands at the hospital, the light in Deniz’s eyes when he’d watched Roman on the ice. Whatever it was, Roman could not banish the images from his mind. The ache below his belly, rooted there but spread through his body, made his skin hot and sensitive. He could feel every thread of fabric covering him, every microscopic movement of air tingling across exposed flesh. His lips felt swollen, his tongue coated with the ghost of Deniz’s taste, the sense memory so strong that if Deniz were to emerge from the shower and into Roman’s line of sight, all of Roman's hard-won control would be lost.

A sound broke through the red fog of Roman’s thoughts. A key was rattling in the front door. Roman pulled a pillow over his lap, clumsily trying to conceal the evidence of his broken reverie. The door opened and closed, and Marian walked into the kitchen. "Hey, Roman."

"Hi," Roman managed, his voice dry.

"How was the..." Marian gestured at his head.

"Fine," Roman said. "Deniz was a massive baby, but no permanent trauma."

Marian grinned and turned to the fridge for a beer. Roman heard the shower squeak as it was turned off and prayed that Deniz would go straight to bed. Or at least be dressed if he came out to join them. Roman was still burning, and though Marian hadn’t seemed to notice, Roman wasn't sure Deniz would be easily fooled.

"My flat is ready. I’m moving out tomorrow," Roman said.

Marian stopped and looked at him. "I thought there was extra damage."

"I lied," Roman shrugged. "I just… I didn't want to leave yet."

Marian watched him. His voice was low. "You can stay as long as you want. I won’t tell Deniz."

Roman looked at Marian, blinking hard, then shook his head. "It's better if I go."

Marian pulled a chair around to face Roman, his expression stern. "Are you giving up on my son?"

Roman smiled a little. "Two years ago you would have been thrilled for me to give up on your son."

"Two years ago he was a confused kid and I was… an asshole." He played with the bottle. "Since you two have been together, I've seen my son become a man. Someone I can be proud of. You're good for him. You make him happy." He grinned at Roman. "I don't know what more a father could ask in a daughter-in-law."

Roman barked out something between a sob and a laugh. "Thanks."

Marian nodded. "So, you’ll stay?"

Roman shook his head. "Deniz already knows about the flat. He's deciding whether to stay here or come with me."

Marian raised his eyebrows. "Well, that's good, right?"

Roman shrugged. "Yes. I mean, sure. He hasn't decided yet."

"Do you want me to talk to him?"

"No," Roman sighed. "He needs to figure it out on his own."

The door from the hallway opened. Marian got up and moved the chair back to the table as Roman glanced nervously towards Deniz, who was in a t-shirt and pajama pants. He did look almost painfully sexy, but at least it wasn't boxer-briefs. "Hey," Marian said, pointing to Deniz's still-damp hair. "Finally got to use shampoo, huh?"

"Yeah." He ran a hand through the hair in question, making it stand up at odd angles. "Mr. Steinkamp called. Wanted to know if I was up for a photo shoot tomorrow morning." He looked at Roman. "I told him I’d call him back…"

Roman pushed up from the couch. "Think your head can take all the camera flashes?" he asked, touching Deniz's jaw to turn his head.

"I think so," Deniz said as Roman examined his scar. "I hardly ever get headaches anymore."

Roman turned Deniz's head back to center, now looking critically at his eyes, cheeks, chin. "Not too tired?"

Deniz shook his head. "No. I’ve been sleeping ok the last few nights."

Roman looked him square in the eyes. "Do you remember how to model?"

Deniz frowned nervously. "It's not just, like, posing? And stuff?"

"Well, yes. But it can be a bit more complicated than that." Roman smiled a bit at Deniz's worried expression. "Would you like me to come with you? Coach you?"

Deniz's mouth curled sheepishly. "Do you mind?"

"Of course not," Roman said, taking his hands back. "But only if you're sure you're ready."

"Yeah. I'm ready."

"Ok," Roman said, turning back to the couch. "I'll just take my things back to my flat before we go." He bent down over one of his bags and began to rummage inside for his pajamas.

"Um. Actually, I was thinking maybe I'd come too."

Roman looked up at Deniz. He was glancing nervously between Roman and Marian.

"I mean, just as, like, a roommate. If that's ok."

Roman stood from his bag, pajamas in hand. He smiled. "Rent will certainly be a lot more manageable with two. Especially as I'm not exactly working right now."

"Ok. I'm gonna call Mr. Steinkamp and pack my stuff." Deniz disappeared into the back hallway.

Roman sat on the back of the couch with a sigh. Marian looked at him with an eyebrow raised. "Relieved? Terrified? Overjoyed?"

Roman grinned a little. "All of the above, I guess. Along with 'exhausted' and 'overwhelmed.'"

Marian walked over to Roman and squeezed his shoulder. "It'll be ok." He continued on into the bedroom and closed the door.

Roman sincerely hoped he was right.

***

"Look this way please, Deniz."

Roman stood beside the photographer, watching Deniz's nervous face. When Deniz glanced at him, Roman demonstrated a smile and a pose. Deniz imitated him. Roman nodded encouragement as the camera began snapping pictures. Stop being so stiff, love… Roman thought desperately.

"Let's take a break, we need to change the lighting around," the photographer said, pulling out a light meter.

Deniz relaxed, and Roman rolled his eyes. He followed Deniz over to the side of the pool. Deniz grabbed a bottle of water and seemed to have a hard time looking at Roman. "Am I doing ok?"

Roman took a bottle as well. "You're doing fine. You just need to relax."

"I don't know how to relax," Deniz hissed.

Roman thought for a second. "Pretend… pretend you're flirting with the camera. Pretend it's someone who noticed you from across the room, and now you've noticed that you've been noticed. You want them to keep watching you." Roman grinned. "When the photographer wants to go home with you, I think you'll have it."

Deniz wasn't smiling. "I don’t know how to do all that. How to flirt."

Roman gave him a sardonic look. "Oh, yes you do. You're the biggest flirt I've ever met." Deniz continued looking morose, so Roman took a quick glance around them and focused briefly on the bar. Then he moved a bit closer to Deniz, grabbing his attention. "Look around you. Can you see someone who’s noticing you?"

Deniz looked around quite obviously, eliciting another eye roll from Roman. In spite of that, eventually Deniz focused on the same place that Roman had. The bar. The blonde.

"She's been watching you all morning," Roman murmured. "Now you've seen her, how do you keep her watching?" He watched as Deniz's eyes glanced furtively to her, and away, and again. Roman suppressed a grin. "You're not going to get her by looking terrified. You have all the power here. She's already noticed you. Now you just need to keep her interested. Intrigued. Make her want to know more."

Deniz glanced at Roman uneasily, closed his eyes, took a breath. When he opened his eyes again, Roman's stomach contracted. Deniz had transformed in that breath. Just like that. In the split-second before Deniz looked away, Roman had to clench his hands to stop himself pouncing.

Deniz turned the force of that look on the blonde. After taking a moment to recover, Roman glanced at her. She was now watching Deniz like a deer in headlights.

"Now," Roman breathed. "Go pretend the photographer's a blond. You'll be fine."

Deniz tore his eyes away from the girl and grinned at Roman. "Thanks."

"You're welcome."

When the camera flashes started up, Roman wasn't needed.

***

"How is Deniz doing?" Constanze asked, handing a glass of juice over the bar.

"He's doing really well, actually," Roman said. He gestured to the pool. "As you can see for yourself."

"Has he remembered anything?"

"No." He sipped at his juice. "Oliver thinks there's a chance some will come back as his head heals. But no one really knows."

"And how are… you know, you two?"

Roman smiled at her. "There isn’t any 'you two' right now. We're just working on getting to know each other again."

Constanze put a hand on Roman's arm. "I'm sorry. That must be hard."

Roman shrugged, not really knowing how to answer. Then he noticed the way Constanze was staring over his shoulder, in Deniz's direction. The slight shock. Roman spun around and saw what had gotten Constanze's attention and felt his stomach sink.

The photo shoot had apparently just ended, and the blonde had moved fast. She was standing close to Deniz, head cocked, eyes glued to him as she smiled into his face. Deniz was responding in kind. Roman didn't know if it was their little lesson earlier or simply innate talent, but the Deniz Roman was looking at now was one he remembered well from Deniz's early modeling days. When Deniz leaned into her hair to say something in her ear, Roman looked away, sick.

Another glass appeared next to the juice. Roman looked at Constanze, who was smiling sympathetically. "Something a bit stronger."

Roman nodded. "Thanks." He picked up the glass and drained it quickly. When he looked back towards the pool, Deniz and the blonde had disappeared.


	5. part 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Roman talks, and talks, and talks some more.

The flat was as clean as it ever was. This didn't stop Roman from scrubbing every surface within reach.

_What did you expect, really,_ he thought. _You knew he would be going through the whole thing again, including the part where he kills you by sleeping with random women. This isn't a surprise._

_Of course it's not a surprise. That doesn't mean it can't hurt. Like hell._

_Fine, let it hurt. But you don't need to take it out on Deniz. He's not doing it to hurt you. He's just confused. And possibly straight._

_He. Is. Not. Straight._

_What if he is, though? What if this is the new Deniz? Are you going to chase him around for another two years waiting for him to finally get tired and chase you off for good?_

_No. Not two years. Maybe… a few more weeks. I can handle it for a few more weeks._

_And the blonde? What if he starts dating her? Can you really go through another Vanessa?_

He was scrubbing the ceramic stove-top a little harder than necessary. _No. This is different._ He's _different. He's not a stupid kid this time. He's an adult, an overly-horny, too-attractive-for-his-own-good adult. An adult whose entire life started three weeks ago. He just needs some time to figure things out._

_And part of figuring things out is fucking some model groupie in the locker room. In OUR locker room._

There was a knock on the door, startling him out of his thoughts. He tossed the rag down on the counter and opened the door. Deniz was there.

"I don't have a key." His face was dark with anger.

Roman turned with a sigh and went into the living room, Deniz following. Roman picked a key chain out of the bowl on the small table and tossed it to Deniz. "These are yours."

Deniz caught them. "I thought you were going to wait for me."

"I had cleaning to do," Roman muttered. "Besides, you seemed… busy."

Deniz cocked his head. "Are you upset about something?"

Roman flopped on the couch. "Not at all."

Deniz sat down next to him. "Any chance you're going to tell me why you ditched me to come home and clean?"

"I didn't _ditch_ you," Roman breezed. "I thought since the flirting lessons seemed to work, you didn't need me to stick around."

Deniz narrowed his eyes. "Are you talking about Stacey?" Roman suppressed a gag. "She gave me her number, that's all. I threw it away."

Roman frowned at him. "I saw you two go down to the locker room."

Deniz frowned back. "You saw _me_ go down to the locker room, you mean. I was changing."

"That was two hours ago!" Roman seethed. "You changed for _two hours?_ "

" _No._ I had to change into another outfit for the rest of the photo shoot. The outerwear portion? We took them in the ice rink. You _know_ that."

Roman had a sudden memory: standing next to Deniz as the Male Function representative explained the two parts of the shoot in his stumbling, awkward German. First poolside, then outwear at the ice rink. Roman did an internal forehead smack. "So… you and the blonde. You didn't…"

"No," Deniz rolled his eyes. "We didn't. She was vapid. Not really my type."

Roman sighed and sat back down, his legs wobbly with relief. "Oh, she's _definitely_ your type."

"Besides, I wouldn't have… I mean, right in front of you like that. That would be… cruel."

Roman glanced at him silently. Deniz looked back at him, expression growing wary again.

"Have I? Before?"

Roman nodded. "First Nina, then Vanessa. After that you went into your party phase and I lost count."

Deniz sunk slowly back into the couch. "So, I was a slut."

Roman suppressed a laugh. "Well, I mean… well. Yes." Seeing Deniz bury his face in his hands, Roman slid back as well and put a hand on his leg. "But that was a long time ago. You've grown up a lot since then."

Deniz looked at him. "Since we started dating?"

"Some," Roman nodded. "But some before that, too. You went through a lot. Put _yourself_ through a lot. Put _everyone_ through a lot, honestly."

Deniz sighed mightily and braced himself. "You should tell me about it. It might explain why I don't seem to have any friends besides you."

Roman rolled his eyes. "You have friends. Most of them have just… left. On to bigger and better things."

"Why didn't I leave?"

"Because you found bigger and better things right here." Roman said. At Deniz's sardonic eyebrow, he snorted. "I mean skating, and modeling for Male Function. And sure, our relationship might have had something to do with it as well."

"Ok," Deniz said. "Start at the beginning."

Roman collected his thoughts. “Well, it all started for little Deniz Öztürk when one of his friends wanted to know what it was like to kiss a boy. Turns out the boy didn't think much of it, but little Deniz… well, he couldn't stop thinking about it."

Deniz was giving him a look. "Are you seriously going to 'once upon a time' this?"

"Yes," Roman said in a dignified voice. "It's more interesting that way." He ignored Deniz's eye roll and continued. "So little Deniz was obsessing about this kiss and all his little friends somehow got wind of it and decided to tease him. So Deniz did what Deniz does best when he's cornered: he started fighting and telling himself that he wasn't gay, because good little Turks grow up to be big strong manly Turks with wide-hipped wives and many babies."

Deniz was now glaring. "Seriously."

Roman grinned and looked down at his hands. When he looked up again he was still smiling, but his eyes were serious. "You got into trouble. You moved to Essen to live with your dad. New life, no one chasing you around calling you gay. Then one night I got drunk and kissed you, and your new friends found out about it and it all started up again. Including the couldn't-stop-thinking-about-it part. But this time you used Nina to throw off your friends' attention, and it worked. Instead of teasing you, they beat the shit out of me."

Deniz closed his eyes for a moment, then looked carefully at Roman. "Bulle."

A distant voice seemed to echo through Roman's head. _"You're into this, aren't you? You're into this!"_

"Bulle," Roman agreed. "And afterward you felt guilty, because you knew that the reason you'd let it happen was because you were so scared to be gay. And because I'd made you face it." He shrugged. "Eventually you did though. Face it. And for a few months, we were happy."

"What happened?"

"I'm not really sure. Maybe you were still scared to be gay. Maybe it was the age difference. Whatever it was, you fell in love with your best friend, Vanessa."

Deniz frowned. "I fell in love with a girl?"

Roman nodded. "Yeah, I was pretty surprised too. Then you spent a long time trying to have us both, or not hurt anyone, or whatever you were trying to do."

_The gray sky over the seldom-used ping-pong table. "I want to be with you."_

"In the end we broke up, you dated Vanessa for a while, then the partying started."

_"It's cool, right?" Deniz's body sliding against his, the familiar taste of his tongue._

"I sometimes think it was my fault. I invited you to that first party, because… well, because I could see that the modeling was going to your head, and I thought maybe I could get close to you again if I… I don't know. Just got you away from her. And it worked. The second Vanessa figured out you were lying to her, she dumped you. Then things really got out of control. For both of us."

_Bliss, always bliss. Until they woke up, or Marian burst into the room and shattered Roman's delicate bubble of denial. "Not in my bed!"_

"You were always high or drunk or both. You would sleep with anyone who stood still long enough – including me. Not that I was exactly fighting you off. When the party was over and I was cleaning up after you, it was miserable. But when the champagne was flowing and you were kissing me again… all I cared about was being with you. We both made some pretty big mistakes, and when I finally came around and you finally got your act together, we didn't speak to each other for a long time. Funnily enough, it was Bulle that got us… talking again."

_"That's what friends do, right? Protect each other?"_

"For a little while, at least. But we still weren't any good for each other. In the end, we were just using each other."

_The dull thud of her book hitting the floor. The soft towel, and the hardness beneath. The damp heat of his skin as they tumble gracefully onto the couch._

“After that, we just sort of went our separate ways. I focused on skating, and you… well, you bounced around a lot. You had trouble finding modeling work, you ended up owing your dad a bunch of money, you even tried your hand at… well, they called it an 'escort service.'"

Deniz was rubbing his forehead with the fingers of one hand. "So you're saying I got into modeling, started doing drugs, stopped modeling, went into debt, and became a whore."

Roman nodded. "You also got arrested for Bulle's murder."

Deniz boggled. "Bulle’s _murder?_ "

"It wasn't you," Roman added hastily. "You probably beat him up, but you didn't kill him."

"Oh, well that's a relief," Deniz said dryly. "So how the hell did we end up together again with all that happening?"

"We started skating together. There was an accident and your partner got hurt. You still needed to practice, so the Steinkamps convinced me to fill in for her until she could skate again. Things just… happened."

_"Yeah, it's me." The cold in the rink, banished by the warmth of his mouth, the taste of him so familiar even after all this time._

"And then… happily ever after?" Deniz was looking uncomfortable again. Perhaps sensing Roman's memories behind his eyes.

"Some days," Roman said wistfully. "Some days were harder. Just like any relationship."

Roman's cell phone chirped, startling them both. He picked it up and was greeted by Ben's enthusiastic promise that Katja was ready now. This time. For real. After a few more excited monosyllables, Roman disconnected. “I need to go to the Centre. Think you can keep yourself out of trouble for a few hours?"

Another look. "I think I can manage, thanks."

Roman smiled and stood up. He started for the door, then turned back. "Look, Deniz… I know I made it sound like you couldn't do anything right, but… you should understand. You've always had your heart in the right place, even when your head wasn't. And you've changed a lot in the last year, grown up. You've paid for your mistakes. Don't beat yourself up over them again."

Roman squeezed Deniz's shoulder then left the flat, closing the door softly behind him. Deniz stayed on the couch, carefully turning over the gratitude swelling in his chest, wondering what to make of it.

***

It was several hours later when Roman returned, bursting with news of Katja and her first coltishly wobble-legged moments on the ice. He was sure that she would be his first success as a trainer and he was excited to be back in the rink again, even if it wasn't as a performer. He could stay in that world he loved, and over time he might even make a name for himself as something other than the perpetual bronze-medalist. He couldn't wait to tell Deniz everything, and didn't care that Deniz wouldn't understand half of what he was talking about.

He wrestled past the stubborn door lock and hurried into the flat. He was greeted with the sight of Deniz sprawled the length of the couch, sound asleep. Roman deflated; he also saw how pale Deniz looked in the waning light. Roman was reminded, in Oliver's stern voice, that Deniz wouldn't be fully healed for months.

Roman walked up to the couch and crouched down beside him. He watched Deniz's face for a long time, listened to his breathing, tried to hear his heartbeat the way he used to when he'd lay his head on Deniz's chest in the middle of the night. He kept his hands squeezed tightly together, the hands that wanted so badly to touch his face, his lips, the line of his jaw. He was close enough to breathe in his scent, and did so, eyes closed. "I miss you," he whispered.

Brought back by the sound of his own voice, Roman opened his eyes and checked warily to make sure Deniz was still sleeping. Satisfied that he was, Roman stood and went back into the bedroom alone.

When the door closed behind Roman, Deniz opened his eyes and stared into the gathering dark.


	6. part 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Deniz has feelings you can feel.

Deniz stared at the two magazines. He frowned, looking back and forth between them. When a hand slapped down on his shoulder, he nearly jumped out of his skin.

"What are you doing?" a blessedly familiar voice said behind him. He turned and looked down, into his father’s face.

"I'm… I just wanted to… you know. Compare."

In one hand, Deniz had a fashion magazine. The cover was graced by a skinny supermodel in what was apparently known as a dress – even though it left the woman looking decidedly _un_ dressed. The other magazine was dedicated to men's' health, and sported a sweaty, heavily muscled man in boxing gloves and shorts, and not much else. Marian looked between these thoughtfully. "Is it helping?"

Deniz quirked his mouth. "No. I don't really think either of them is attractive."

Marian peered at the pictures. "That could be because _he_ looks like he's on steroids and _she_ looks like she hasn't eaten in a month."

Deniz sighed and put the magazines back on the stand. He frowned at Marian's expression as they entered the grocery store together. "What is it?"

"You seemed pretty sure you were straight when you woke up. Did something change?"

Deniz shrugged. "I don't know. I mean, I don't really feel anything for Roman. But I believe him, you know? That we were a couple. That I was in love with him, before."

"I'm glad you finally figured out that it wasn't some elaborate ruse to mess with your head," Marian muttered, eyebrow raised.

"Yeah, I know," Deniz mumbled. "I do care about Roman. I mean, he's been at my side since I woke up, even though I _know_ it tears him up. And it's just… so weird. It's like, part of me hates when he's around 'cause it makes me feel like such an asshole, knowing what he wants and not being able to give it to him; then another part of me wants him around all the time, 'cause it's the only time I really feel normal, you know? When he’s not there, I just feel like… like I don't know what I'm supposed to be doing."

Marian was nodding, adding items to his grocery basket as they walked. "I see. Maybe you should tell Roman this."

"Yeah," Deniz sighed. "It's just… I can only take hurting him so many times a day, and I usually hit my quota before I even open my mouth."

Marian stopped and looked at Deniz with a small grin. "I don't really think you're giving Roman much credit, here. He's a lot stronger than you seem to think. And he can take it." At Deniz’s doubtful look, "Deniz, maybe you're just projecting."

"Projecting?" Deniz frowned.

"Putting _your_ feelings on Roman. Yes, it's going to hurt him, but he can handle it. It's the fact that hurting him hurts _you_ that's confusing."

"Maybe," Deniz muttered.

"Talk to him," Marian said, putting a hand on Deniz's shoulder. "The biggest problem you guys ever had was lack of communication. Keeping up that habit isn't going to solve anything." He pushed Deniz gently back towards to door. "Go. Talk."

***

Deniz sipped at his soda, watching the stairs to the locker rooms as he had been doing for the past half hour. His eyes wandered to the pool, where two bikini-clad girls were giggling with each other and glancing at Deniz. His eyes wandered back to the stairs again.

Finally Roman appeared, walking up the stairs alongside Katja. They were talking, Katja looking worried, Roman smiling. Katja muttered something as they turned towards the pool, and Roman laughed out loud. They stopped and Roman gripped Katja’s hands, his smile indulgent now, all cheekbones and crinkling eyes.

Deniz hadn't moved except to follow Roman with his head. Since waking into this strange life, Deniz had never seen Roman smile so guilelessly, without any of the accompanying defensive sarcasm. He just looked so… happy. Deniz felt something in the area of his belly, something swelling inside him as he watched Roman squeeze Katja’s hands and nod encouragingly at her words. Suddenly Deniz knew what it was: Roman always held back with him. His smile never really reached his eyes; he never came too close without a tentative checking of Deniz's face as though waiting for permission. The only time he could remember Roman ever being that open was the day at the ice rink, when Roman had almost kissed him. Because he'd forgotten, for a moment, that Deniz wasn't the same person he'd been before, and because he loved that old Deniz, and because he knew that other Deniz would smile and laugh and kiss him back. But instead, Deniz had pushed him away. So roughly that he'd seen bruises on Roman's wrists the next day, although Roman tried to cover them.

Finally Katja bounced off, Roman smiling after her. His eyes moved around the pool and settled on Deniz, who was still staring at him. Deniz saw the smile falter, the eyes become guarded again. He suddenly found himself wishing he could stop that wall from being built up again when Roman looked at him. And he also felt like he was made of knees and elbows as he clumsily extricated himself from the chair while Roman rounded the pool to approach him.

"Hey," Roman said, looking at him, seeming slightly confused. "Everything ok?"

"Yeah!" Deniz replied, sounding far too enthusiastic to himself. He stopped and forced himself to take a breath. "I. Um. Just thought I'd stop by." He held up his soda. "Have a drink."

Roman nodded, still looking like he knew something was up. "Well, I'm glad you're here. I was thinking it might be fun to go out on the ice for a bit. If you're up for it."

"Sure," Deniz said. "But don't I need skates?"

Roman grinned and there was a little of that guilelessness again, twisting something in Deniz's stomach. "You _have_ skates. They're in your locker, downstairs."

"Right," Deniz grinned, feeling like an idiot. "Let’s go."

***

"I don't know about this," Deniz said, fifteen minutes later.

Roman smiled patiently. He was standing on the ice next to the boards, watching as Deniz tested his balance on the bare blades of his skates. He held out his hand. "It'll be ok. I promise."

Deniz smiled at him, so full of trust that Roman thought his heart would break. One hand clasped in Roman's, the other clutching the boards, Deniz took his first nervous step onto the ice.

And promptly fell on his ass. He helplessly dragged Roman down with him.

Roman was already laughing by the time he landed next to Deniz, legs tangled in his. Deniz just looked startled. He glared up at Roman, who had rolled over to face him. "You said you wouldn't let me fall!"

"I said it would be _ok,_ " Roman corrected him, struggling to stop laughing. "I never said anything about keeping you on your skates."

Deniz huffed as Roman got back up. He helped Deniz back to his feet and then glided back away from him as he clung to the boards. He glared at Roman. "Where are you going?"

Roman stopped, only about twenty feet away. "Come on. Just get to me."

Deniz stood up straight, hands still clutching at the boards behind him, then took a step out. His skates promptly began to rebel again, and his feet scrambled uselessly as he clung to the boards. Roman's laughter echoed through the rink. Although it was laughter at his expense, the sound of it made Deniz glad.

"Stop trying to walk," Roman managed. "You're on ice, schatz. You need to _slide._ It's a bit like trying to walk backward. Ok?"

Deniz nodded and experimented moving his feet a little. When his legs did not go flailing out from under him, he stood up a bit straighter and relaxed his grip on the boards. Roman was nodding at him.

"That's it. Now use your toe-pick."

"Toe-pick?"

Roman pulled up one leg and kicked it toe-first into the ice, creating a small eruption of particles. Then he held his foot out in front of him so Deniz could see the claw at the front of the blade. "Toe pick. Use it to push yourself off the boards and just slide over to me."

Looking uncertain, Deniz tested out the toe-pick much like Roman had, kicking it into the ice and feeling how it dug solidly in. He felt his confidence rise some more and barely noticed when one hand came off the boards. Something about this felt familiar. A rush of excitement flowed through him… was he remembering?

"Just relax," Roman was saying, "don't tense up. Your body knows what to do to stay up, it's your mind that keep trying to drag you down to the ice. Now, push off."

Almost without thinking, Deniz did so. Smooth and graceful, he glided across the ice with one leg in the air, arms spread outward, leaning forward. Roman, heart beating fast, readied himself for the impact. When Deniz reached him they twirled together into a spin. Each had an arm around the others’ waist, opposite arm relaxed at their sides. The spin broke off and they glided backwards away from each other. Deniz was smiling, Roman's face serious.

"Holy crap!" Deniz enthused, standing on his toe-picks. "I can skate! I remember how to skate!"

Roman didn't smile back. "Do you remember skating before?"

Deniz's good mood abruptly deflated. "No."

Roman skated up to him. "It must be like writing or walking. Muscle memory." He put a hand on Deniz's arm and smiled. "It doesn't matter. Just enjoy it."

Deniz looked at him for a long moment, his eyes beseeching. Wanting it to be ok with Roman, that he simply enjoy this and not have to try to remember. Roman saw it, and nodded. He slid back a bit, giving Deniz room to maneuver. Deniz took off across the ice, smiling again. Roman watched him circle the rink, swallowing past a lump in his throat. But he wouldn't cry. The time for grief was done now. It was time to stop mourning the Deniz who had died in the earthquake, and start getting to know the one who had been born after it.


	7. part 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SO. MANY. FEELINGS.

Oliver was glaring at Roman. "You did what?"

Roman glanced uneasily between Oliver and Deniz, who was apparently trying to hold in a smile. "I. Uh. I took him out on the ice. But just a few times, honest."

Oliver continued to glare at Roman. "You are aware that he is recovering from a _traumatic brain injury,_ yes?"

Roman squirmed, glancing at Deniz again. Deniz was trying to look grave, but his eyes were dancing. "It's very serious," Deniz agreed, earning him a withering glare from Roman.

"He's an adult, Oliver. Lecture _him._ "

Oliver slid his eyes to Deniz, who stopped smiling. "It was Roman's idea."

Eyes back to Roman, who was staring at Deniz, hand to his chest. "I can't believe you just sold me out!"

"It _was_ your idea!," Deniz insisted, still trying hard not to smile.

"Excuse me," Roman rapped, "but trying out jumps was most definitely not my idea, nor was that pathetic excuse for a sit-spin…"

"Enough!" Oliver barked, and the boys looked at him. "I will take away your skates, both of you. If he falls and hits his head on the ice or the boards or your bloody idiot arse _Roman,_ he could have a stroke or an embolism and possibly end up in a coma for the rest of his life. Do you understand the seriousness of what I'm telling you?"

"Yes," Roman muttered, as Deniz nodded.

"It's been over a month, Oliver," Deniz chimed in. "When will I be ok to skate again?"

"Another month. Then I'll run some tests, make sure your head is staying together, and we'll go from there. Ok?"

"Ok," Deniz chirped, and hopped off the exam table. Roman followed him out of the clinic.

"I didn't know you were so interested in skating," he observed lightly as they walked towards the fry stand.

Deniz frowned at him. "I've been pestering you to skate every day this week. That doesn't strike you as 'interested?'"

"I just assumed you were bored," Roman shrugged. They walked up to the counter and requested two orders of fries from Kuehle. They waited at one of the standing tables.

"Why did we ever stop skating?" Deniz asked.

Roman began fiddling with the salt shaker. "We got banned from competing."

"What? How did that happen? What did we do?"

Roman glanced at him uneasily. "Your partner, Stella… she disappeared before one of your competitive skates. You and I, we'd been practicing together for weeks, trying to get your skills up. I didn't want you to have to forfeit, and… well, I dressed up as Stella and we performed together in the competition. It would have worked too, but the wig fell off."

Deniz had been listening to this with growing amusement. Finally he burst out laughing.

Roman frowned at him. "You went along with it."

"Oh man," Deniz chuckled. "Was that when you decided to be a trainer?"

"Um. No. The whole thing got a lot of press, and it caught the attention of Male Function. That’s when they hired us to model for them. Then I found out about the Gay Games…"

"The _Gay Games?_ Seriously?" He could not seem to stop giggling, eliciting a withering look from Roman.

"Yes. They offered competitive same-sex pair skating. And that's what I _needed,_ Deniz. What I'd been missing. Competition. A reason to train." He shook his head. "But it was already too late for me. I couldn't keep up with you, with training, so I started… taking something. To help me be stronger."

The salt shaker he'd been fiddling with suddenly tipped and rolled across the counter towards Deniz. Both reached out at the same time to grab it before it could plunge off and dash itself on the sidewalk. Deniz got there first and set it upright, pretending not to notice Roman's fingers brushing the back of his hand before retreating.

Roman looked down at his hands and continued. "When you found out, you were… disappointed. You made me realize I'd been in it for the wrong reasons. You were never really interested in competing, you see? You were doing it because you enjoyed skating with me and because you knew it was important to me. But all I cared about was getting to the top of that podium. Even if it meant destroying both our careers to do it." He shook his head. "So I quit. Male Function fired me, the Steinkamps fired me, and you were there supporting me the whole time." He looked at Deniz. "I don't really know why _you_ stopped. I sort of thought you might continue on, maybe try out singles skating. I guess… I just never had a chance to ask."

Deniz looked down at his hands, all too aware of the implication: _and now I never will._ Kuehle arrived with their fries. They ate in silence.

***

Deniz couldn't concentrate on the movie.

They'd eaten dinner and cleaned up, the same as every night for the past few weeks. No arguments, no drama. Just comfortable small talk and gossip and what they'd done during their day. Then they picked a DVD and settled in on the couch; Roman curled on one end, quite used to no longer snuggling, Deniz flopped on the other end.

Deniz glanced at Roman. He was still surprised by how much everything had changed over the past few weeks. Ever since seeing Roman at the Centre with Katja; Roman smiling and relaxed for the first time since they'd met – since he'd woken from the coma. Deniz had examined the feelings that had emerged, carefully and slowly and thoughtfully, determined not to rush them or add too much significance to something that might mean nothing. Was there anything to the quaver in his stomach, the stutter in his heartbeat, the clammy palms, the nervous rambling? After careful consideration, he had no idea.

Tonight he would find out.

He couldn't stop himself glancing over at Roman throughout the movie. Over and over again he glanced, surreptitiously examining Roman's profile, his hands moving minutely but restlessly, his legs curled under him, his besocked toes pointing at Deniz.

Deniz swallowed and heard a click in his throat. He got up suddenly from his end of the couch and went to the kitchen for a glass of water. Roman followed him with his eyes, then looked back to the movie. Deniz felt his hands shaking a little as he poured the water and drank. His stomach had become a hard, tangled knot. He was surprised to realize that it wasn't the only thing about him that felt hard.

He cleared his throat and went back to the couch. Being as casual as possible, he sat half on the side cushion and half on the middle, so that Roman's toes were only inches away from his thigh. He could feel the heat from Roman’s body, even though he was too far away to _actually_ feel the heat from Roman’s body. Every nerve in his body was singing, and he had lost all track of what the movie was about.

***

Roman could feel it coming off Deniz in waves. He'd been feeling it growing for a few weeks now, when it sprang up out of nowhere at the Centre, so strong that it nearly knocked the breath out of him: desire. It was there, in Deniz, something he couldn't hide (had never been any good at hiding). Roman, remembering how easily Deniz spooked, pretended not to notice. Pretended he didn't want to cry with a mixture of relief and joy. Pretended he hadn't been praying for this moment since Deniz had first woken up and looked at him, first blankly and then with a mixture of fury and revulsion.

So he waited, and pretended he didn't know. Except now he couldn't concentrate on the movie, had no idea what it was about really, even though he forced himself to keep his eyes glued to the screen as Deniz inched closer and closer.

***

Roman shifted, nearly startling Deniz right off the couch. Roman flipped one leg over so that he was sitting cross-legged on the far cushion, his body no longer leaned away from Deniz but straight up… and closer. His eyes never left the television as he did this, and then he sat still, hands folded in his lap, seemingly absorbed in the movie.

Deniz's heart rate slowly began to return to normal, and he feigned a stretch that scooched him just a hair closer to Roman. Their legs were now touching, although just barely… a whisper of contact, almost impossible to feel through layers of cloth, nearly searing the skin off his bones. He emulated Roman's position a bit, folding his hands in his lap to try to conceal the now clearly visible evidence of his burning thoughts.

_Why am I so scared?_ he suddenly wondered. _I've done this before… been with Roman._ He ignored the rush of heat the thought produced and kept on this train of thought. _If this is so familiar then why am I terrified?_

_Because it's your first time, idiot. You don't remember before. You get to have your first time all over again, lucky you. Now quit messing around, grab Roman, and tear his clothes off-_

_No._

_But… he's_ right there! _Just jump him before you lose your nerve-_

_No. Not like that._

He was watching Roman now. No more sneaking glances or inching closer. That was done now. Roman could no longer pretend not to notice Deniz's attention and looked at him. They stared at each other for a long moment, then Deniz dropped his eyes to Roman's lap, Roman's hands. Moving slowly, fingers trembling, he reached out and pulled one of Roman's hands onto his own lap, twining their fingers together, exploring knuckles and palm and delicate bones.

Roman closed his eyes, remembering a cool autumn day on the worn-down old ping-pong table, sitting tangle-legged as Deniz played with his fingers, smiling when Deniz looked up at him with frank affection. Deniz had only been a boy then, his desire for Roman tempered by his fear of his father, of his hockey team, of the other kids at school. But Deniz had never allowed fear to stop him before, and he leaned over and kissed Roman in the sunshine outside his father's apartment building.

Roman felt the cushions shift and opened his eyes. Deniz's face was only inches away from his own, eyes moving from his own eyes to hairline to cheekbones to lips, where they settled as he continued to lean forward. Roman watched Deniz close the distance, those waves of desire crashing over Roman like a physical force, bringing blood to his skin and obliterating thought. That first tentative brush of lips was too soft, too timid for all that raw need, and Roman had to summon every thread of self-control he had to keep from grabbing Deniz's face and smothering him. If he did that, all that slow-built passion would disappear like a child's dish soap bubble, so gorgeous you only wanted to catch it in your hands and keep it forever, but which burst the moment it was touched.

So he waited, breathing in Deniz's smell. He waited, heart pounding in his ears and blocking out the meaningless movie still playing on the television, time seeming to stretch out into some excruciating infinity until he wondered if he would exist in this moment forever, wondering and waiting, hoping, needing… he looked into Deniz's eyes and saw light.

His lips settled onto Roman's firmly, drew away slightly, and came back open. Roman's mouth opened, and there was a gentle touch of tongues. Deniz's hand crept to his throat, and their tongues met again, stronger. Roman felt his control melting away as his hands trailed up Deniz's arms and neck and gripped his face and his hair. Deniz was pulling him back, stretching onto the couch and dragging Roman on top of him. He could feel Deniz's hardness against his hip and his hands were trailing down Roman's sides, across his back, one stopping on his bum as the other trailed back up and gripped his neck, hard, as though to bring Roman closer somehow even though their kisses had become a cacophony of tongue and teeth and sharp breath.

Roman broke the kiss, drawing his face back from Deniz's. Deniz looked at him, all pupils and swollen lips and flushed cheeks. Roman whispered his name and when he raised his head to banish the space between them, Roman pulled back again. He was simultaneously pleased and worried by the way Deniz's face tracked his, like a flower will turn to the sun.

"Are you sure?" Roman whispered. He hated that he needed to say it, hated the insecurity and doubt he always felt in moments when he should trust and allow, knowing that it was his own disbelief that demanded the safety of knowing. It was a fact about Roman that Deniz had learned and adjusted to years ago, knowing that a small nudge of reassurance was a necessary part of Roman’s happiness and comfort with himself and the world around him. But this Deniz might not know, might misinterpret or misunderstand, might suddenly bolt like a startled cat. The spell might be broken by that shaky-voiced inquiry now dangling in the air between them. Roman felt his stomach begin to turn cold, felt the apologies and negations and excuses begin to rush up his throat in preparation for tumbling out of his mouth.

Then Deniz’s hand came up and lay palm-flat against Roman’s forehead, sliding sideways and back as though to brush all that anxiety out of his head. The familiarity of it, the _us-ness_ of it, brought tears close. Deniz smiled at him and whispered, "Yes," and that cold envelope of fear was torn open and away as Deniz pulled Roman’s face back to his and kissed him, kissed him as though he’d been doing it all his life, knowing just the right dart of tongue and hiss of breath and growl to make Roman’s head feel as though it had opened at the top and freed every nerve to sail out through his confining skin.

Deniz suddenly felt like every thread of clothing he wore was too tight, too rough; he wanted to feel the silkiness of Roman's bare skin against his own. He pushed Roman up into a sitting position on top of him, grabbing his own shirt and wrenching it over his head, arms tangling with Roman's as he grabbed the hem of his t-shirt and forced it roughly over his head. He placed a kiss on Roman's chest, brief and sweet, then abruptly grabbed him around the waist and twisted them both so they were once again laying on the couch, but with Deniz on top. He reached down for Roman's belt even as Roman was doing the same for his own. He recognized the desperation in Roman's shaking, clawing hands, and it scared him. He stopped fumbling with Roman's belt and grabbed his wrists instead. He saw the resignation spring up in Roman's eyes in spite of the gentleness of the grip and smiled reassuringly as he eased his hands up over his head and guided them to the arm of the couch before letting go and sliding his hands slowly down Roman's arms, chest, stomach, and back to the belt.

Another stab of nerves iced into Deniz's stomach as he eased Roman's hips up so he could pull his pants out from under him. Roman made a small sound as he came free of the restricting clothes, and Deniz stared down at the object of his trepidation. Deniz reached his shaking hand out and wrapped it around Roman's cock. His eyes were drawn to Roman's face as he slowly began to move his hand up and down, familiar enough with this rhythm. He watch Roman lick his lips, eyes closed, and gasp, and moan. Deniz felt himself stiffening more inside the pants he still wore, and stopped the motion to fumble with his own belt. Roman’s hands appeared over his own, moving with quiet surety now, helping him unfasten his pants and push them down over his hips.

They were both naked now, and Deniz felt the stab of nerves again. What if he didn’t know what to do? He remembered what Roman had said, on the ice rink, the first time Deniz had skated, about muscle memory. Would it be enough to guide him through?

He looked Roman in the eyes and suddenly realized it didn't matter. _Roman_ would guide him through, the way he'd guided Deniz through so much of his new life. The fear dropped away and Deniz slid back onto the couch, stretching the length of his body against Roman's, gasping at the silken friction of their cocks rubbing gently together. He kissed Roman again and this time it was he who felt his nerve endings escape the confines of his body and fill all the empty space in the room.

***

Roman woke a few hours later, briefly, and glanced around the living room, which was lit only by the blank blue idiot screen of the TV. He scooted around within the circle of Deniz's arms until he was facing away from the light and nuzzled in under Deniz's chin. Deniz didn't really wake, but he did squish Roman tightly to him as a manner of stretching, before relaxing back into sleep. Roman was smiling as he followed Deniz down.


	8. part 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman frets. Deniz wakes up.

Deniz Öztürk opened his eyes and stared.

The flat was very quiet… too quiet. Deniz realized he was alone on the couch, still naked but covered by the striped afghan. The scattering of clothes that had been on the floor were gone.

He sat up, blinking owlishly in the morning light streaming in the windows. He got up, wrapping the blanket around his waist. He spotted a piece of paper on the table.

_Early training with Katja. Come by the Centre for lunch if you like. R._

He set the note down and looked around the room, still not entirely awake. He shuffled in the direction of the bathroom, slinging the blanket over the back of the couch on the way.

***

Watching Katja skate, Roman thought he'd never been so nervous in his life. Not about Katja… hell, he could barely concentrate on her skating. His mind was back at the flat, where he'd left Deniz snoring softly on the couch.

He had debated waking Deniz to talk, but decided against it. The Deniz he'd known before the earthquake had always needed time to process before the talking happened. It used to drive Roman crazy. Until Roman realized how much more together _he_ could be when Deniz forced him to stop and think things through before creating a wall of words around whatever had happened. Deniz had taught him the value of slowing down and taking a breath. It was one of the reasons Roman loved him… but it also meant that Roman was now a ball of anxiety rolling around the ice and barking orders at Katja.

He had no idea how Deniz was going to be this morning. What they had done last night had been amazing, exquisite, more so for how much it felt like the first time. Which it was, of course… not only for Deniz, but because _this_ Deniz was new to Roman. The fearless abandon he'd always had with Roman had disappeared, replaced with a cautious care. It was similar to their first time, but different; whether conscious or not, there was something familiar in it to Deniz, Roman knew. He was slow and nervous and careful, but he seemed to find all the right spots, all the right rhythms in an instinctual way he had not demonstrated back when he'd had his first time with Roman. Another difference was how much more frightened he'd been than the other first time.

But the night had moved on and morning had come, and Roman was all-too aware of how things could change in the light of day. How passions stirred into an undeniable frenzy by obsessive thought or extended contact could dissipate and become fear or anger or resentment in the world outside that bedroom bubble (or sofa bubble, in this case). As he corrected Katja's footwork, he imagined any of a million possible scenarios, everything from Deniz slamming him against the nearest wall in a fit of renewed desire to wanting Roman to pretend it had never happened to coming home to find Deniz and his things gone. As a result he felt like he was on something more intense than a rollercoaster; more like that plane they took astronauts on, the one that climbed and dove repeatedly to simulate zero gravity. Most of the morning he'd felt like he was floating in space, his hastily scarfed breakfast balancing delicately somewhere below his Adam's apple.

He checked his watch and felt zero-gravity in his stomach again. It was almost noon. "Ok, break," he called to Katja.

She glided in to the boards. "But I almost have that landing, I know I can stick it if you let me try it one more time…"

"You can try it a dozen more times, _after_ lunch." Roman swatted her bottom. "Go."

She fitted guards over her blades and tromped off towards the locker rooms. She nodded as she passed Deniz, who was strolling up the walkway towards the ice. Roman noticed him and his stomach seemed to come crashing back to earth.

"Hi," Roman said, gliding slowly up to the boards.

"Hey," Deniz replied. He pulled at the skates resting over his shoulder. "I thought I could go out on the ice for a few minutes."

Roman raised an eyebrow. "Oliver would have our heads."

Deniz leaned in conspiratorially. "I'm pretty sure we can take him if we team up."

Roman grinned at him and Deniz leaned closer still to press a kiss to his lips. It lingered just a little, just enough that there could be no doubt, even in Roman's paranoid mind, as to the intent. Deniz smiled when it was done, and backed onto the bench and started taking his shoes off.

"My dad invited us over for dinner," Deniz said, working at the laces on his skates,  
"to celebrate us being a couple again."

"You told him?" Roman stuttered.

"Yeah, of course!" Deniz shrugged. "I mean, when I woke up this morning, for the first time, everything just made sense, you know? I still don’t remember anything from before, but… it's like, there was this big mistake in my head. I don’t even know how to explain it." He glanced down at the skate laces, then held them up for Roman to see. "It's like this. Everything just felt like a big tangled mess." He started working at the knot. "Then last night we made love, and when I woke up this morning…" He pulled the laces straight, free of the knot. "I finally stopped trying to hack away at the knot and just let you untie it. And suddenly it was like I could just…" He set the skate down and eased his foot in, then looked up at Roman with a pleased smile.

Surprising them both, Roman pounced across the space between them and onto Deniz's lap, wrapping his arms around him and squeezing him tight-tight-tight. Deniz immediately did the same around Roman's waist, turning his head into Roman’s neck.

"You've been freaking out about this all morning, haven't you?" he said into Roman’s hair.

Not trusting himself to speak, Roman nodded.

Deniz chuckled. "I'm sorry, babe." He pulled back so he could find Roman's face and kissed him, deep and fearless and still chuckling a little into Roman's mouth. They stayed that way for a little too long and Roman realized they were about to give anyone looking into the rink quite a show. He broke the kiss off, grinning at Deniz's growl of protest, and stood up, pulling on his hand. They paused just long enough for Deniz to pull off and abandon his skate before they hurried down to the locker rooms.

Deniz glanced around as Roman locked the door behind them. "Really? Here?"

"More times than I can count," Roman nodded, now wrestling with his own skates. "It’s too bad you don't remember, there are some pretty amazing memories in this pla-"

Deniz stopped his words with another kiss. He lifted Roman up and his skates thumped to the ground. By the time he set Roman down they were in the shower. "Time to make new memories," Deniz whispered into Roman's mouth.

Roman nodded and then the water was on, soaking through their clothes. Their giggles echoed out into the locker room proper and soon their sopping garments followed. Deniz braced himself against the tiles and Roman entered him. As he bit down on Deniz's shoulder and pushed himself in deep, the world began to shake around them. Neither of them noticed. It was a smaller quake this time, no real damage beyond a few broken glasses in the Centre's bar and a lot of car alarms going off; and in the men's locker room of Steinkamp Sport & Wellness the deep rumbling was drowned out by moans and gasps and beating hearts.

THE END.

**Author's Note:**

> So I randomly decided in November of 2011 to finish this thing up. In all honesty, it's been finished forever, but I never got around to getting the whole thing properly betaed and posted because I just didn't ok? But I HATE leaving things hanging, and to be honest I sort of still like this story even though it's really cliché and slightly embarrassing. Spaghettitoes was kind of enough to beta the first four chapters. The rest are posted unbetaed.


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